the preliminaries:

first and foremost let me apologize to those of you who were unable to find the humor in the previous post. i do agree that without knowing my sister, the email is quite a bore and so very unworthy of a public pedestal. secondly, allow me to insert a quick disclaimer concerning this post. upon reading it you are likely to speculate that my happiness is solely derived from the facets of materialism and cute shoes. if that likely is really likely in terms that you do believe i am so shallow as to be consumed with lust for that which is purely temperamental self-gratification, well, it's not....entirely (visualize me giving you all a wink-wink). i do not endorse over-indulgence (unless the over-indulgence involves a bag of chocolate covered gummi bears), living beyond your means(unless living beyond your means constitutes having to use pantene pro-v instead of aveda), filling the emptiness in your life with wordily possessions (unless the worldly possession is an i-pod), resorting to shopping for comfort (unless the boy in your life just broke your heart, and now you need some new things to make yourself feel beautiful and wanted if only by the sales lady at saks), and the belittling of those who go to either extreme (exclusion given at bottom of paragraph). god bless the tiva sporting hippies and god bless the burberry empresses. it is my hope that those of you who have read this far and intend to read further understand and if perchance mary kate and ashley look up their names on google and find my site and read this post that they should take this into account as well because the message that their giving young girls is that materialism equals happiness and beauty is found in a bottle of dye and a tube of pink lipstick. which is soooo wrong.

and now:

unlike my persona counterfeits, i, for the vast part, do not like thrift store scavenging. i prefer tiny boutiques where the air is filled with an aroma of vanilla scented candles burning from the window seals, a floor that sparkles the reflection of 18th century french deco wallpaper and neat and tidy shelves lined and filled with dark denim jeans, shirts that button up the sleeve to the neck line, mary janes that tie with pink ribbon; however, oh how unfortunately however, the price tags that dangle from such classic/bohemian-esque pieces in this store of my daydreams, at this point in my life, like love, is the unattainable, the carrot tied to a string luring me to prance onward christian on. and whilst the temptation of an unexplainable need for something...something white/black/grey/or pink arises and the inspiration from the afore nights breezing the pages of fader and the jcrew catalog strikes, i am but putty, and embark to that section of town where taco stands are next to plasma centers(and am here as living proof that the taco stand has pretty good tacos and won't make you sick even though i swore i was doomed) and plasma centers are next to dollar stores and dollar stores are next to salvation army; in hope of finding something white/black/grey/or pink ala vintage extraordinarily cute and most of all, cheap.

such was given to me yesterday, twice. the first purchase i have not a clue on how to describe. it's a top. it's a top that must have belonged to a savana nights dancer circa 1940's. it has ruffles. it's kinda slutty but i've figured out how to get around that whole slutty thing: a blue jean jacket. this one in particular that i just got from buffalo exchange...um i think it's theory and what i know for sure is that it's hot to trot. my second item(drum role please).....these kick ass vintage neiman marcus high heels. their a soft creme colour, with a maroon ribbon weaving itself around the frame of the shoe and tieing at the toes. but most remarkably, the heels are a deep blue.

rats, gotta go.